Twelve Page 10

  Despite the elegance and extraordinary quality of the dinner, much of the food was left untouched. The attention span for much of the room had been turned elsewhere.

  “So far we’ve got two fights and two kills. Not a bad start to the night,” Winston commented. “It took a half dozen fights last year to get two kills.”

  “Ten the year before that,” Rosner responded.

  Winston wasn’t sure which burned him more. The fact that Rosner was again working on his lenses or that he insisted on bringing up the event two years before.

  The event that year had been held in Australia. Winston wasn’t invited.

  “Wagers for Maake just surged ahead,” Winston said.

  “How much?”

  “Another five million since the end of the bout.”

  “Total?”

  “Seventy-five and counting. I expect another surge when Boucher fights.”

  “Which should be when?” Rosner asked, perching the wire rims back onto his nose and turning his focus on his cuticles.

  Winston felt his cheeks flush hot, but fought back the feeling and headed for the podium. The first screen he pulled up was the grid featuring each of the twelve fighters. With the press of a button, a large X crossed out Jaxon.

  From there, he pulled the schematic back up onto the screen. Eleven red dots remained.

  Fifty-One

  They were the same. The hard edges and fine lines looked a little different from the one drawn on Kelly’s leg in his own blood, but there was no mistaking it.

  It was the same symbol.

  “How the hell do you think he knew?” Nixon asked as they pulled to a stop.

  “My guess, he got somebody to tell him after they left him for dead.”

  “Disemboweled, pinned to the ground. Probably thought they had nothing to lose. Maybe even bragged about it.”

  Manus drew his lips tight. “That’d be my guess too.”

  Nixon pulled the SUV through a chain link fence and came to a stop in front of a non-descript building. Behind them, the gate sagged open and the remains of a heavy chain lay scattered on the pavement.

  “Stone?” Nixon asked.

  “No doubt. None of ours would ever do that.”

  Nixon nodded, then smiled. “I like his style.”

  The building was made of dark brick and stood two stories tall. Rows of windows lined them both. A simple plaque stating “Mjollnir Industries” was on the wall beside the door. Otherwise, there was no indication of what lay inside.

  Manus and Nixon hopped from the SUV and headed for the front door. A handful of windows had lights on and the strobe of flashlights could be seen through a few others.

  The moment they stepped inside, two Marines with M-16’s were there to greet them.

  Manus pulled to an immediate stop and beside him Nixon raised his hands. “Easy guys, it’s us.”

  In unison, the Marines shifted their guns from the front door to the opposite wall.

  There, tied up on the ground, sat three guards in black military dress.

  “Whoa, who the hell are these guys?” Nixon asked.

  “They were here when we arrived, sir,” the first Marine responded. “Well, these three and two more.”

  “And where are they?”

  “They opened fire on us, sir,” the Marine said.

  Nothing more. He didn’t have to.

  Manus nodded and walked past them. “Good work men.”

  Nixon caught up to him and together they set off down the hall in search of Briggs and Heller.

  “One hell of a welcoming party, huh?” Nixon asked.

  “Seems like an excessive amount of protection for one little office building.”

  They strode directly down the hall, glancing in each of the rooms as they passed. One was a conference room, one a kitchen. Another was a printing room.

  Very basic, non-descript office set-up. Except that each of them had been tossed from top to bottom.

  They reached the far end of the hallway and took the stairs up to the second floor. They could hear furniture being moved about and stacks of paper hitting the ground.

  “Briggs! Heller!” Manus barked.

  Two heads popped out from opposite offices at the end of the hall. “You get a warrant?” Briggs asked.

  “You get what we’re looking for?” Manus asked.

  “Yes and no. You better take a look at this.”

  Manus strode for Briggs as Nixon broke off behind him to look in on Stone and the others.

  “What have you got?” Manus asked as he rounded the corner and stopped cold at the door. “Whoa.”

  Inside, the office extended over thirty feet from end to end. Banks of flat screen plasmas stretched around the room and a babbling fountain took up the entire far wall.

  The carpet was thick and plush and the floor was covered with an oriental rug.

  “Didn’t expect to find this, did you?” Briggs asked, already back behind a desk that stretched in a large U-shape. In total it was over fifteen feet and made from polished cherry wood.

  “Armed guards and an office the President would use. What the hell is this place?” Manus asked.

  Briggs waved a hand at stacks of paper spread around the enormous desk. “See all this?”

  “Yeah? Everything we need?”

  “It’s bunk. Nothing but a diversionary tactic.”

  Manus narrowed his eyes and turned his head in a gesture of misunderstanding.

  “These guys," Briggs said, "Mjollnir, do have some legitimate holdings. Scrap metal, real estate, etc. That’s everything you see here. What you don’t see is everything else these guys are into.”

  “Which is?”

  Briggs looked up and shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  Midnight

  Fifty-Two

  The ground beneath Tommy Toulson’s feet was equal parts dirt and gravel. A small crunching sound sprang up with each step he took through the lower level of the complex.

  “Bloody hell, what’s all this about? I’m here to fight, not be some damn explorer.”

  Beads of sweat began to form over his exposed upper body. Long streaks ran down his chest and back towards his waist.

  A few spots of dried blood dotted his hands and wrists from his first encounter in the tunnels.

  Ahead of him, the path grew lighter and Toulson increased his pace a half-step. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  He moved forward to the bright light and found that the light wasn’t a change of scenery but an intersection. Nothing but earthen walls stretched out in all directions around him.

  “Well shit.”

  He turned in a complete circle, surveying the three options around him. The path to his left seemed to rise away from the intersection.

  “Left it is then. Anything to get me out of this bloody cellar.”

  Just as Toulson turned and began to step away from the intersection, a low shrill whistle went up behind him.

  Toulson took another three steps and spun with his hands at the ready. Thirty yards back, standing in the middle of the crossroads, was Kelly Mandrake.

  A sadistic smile spread across Toulson’s face and he dropped his hands back to his side. “Fancy a go, eh love?”

  As he spoke, he ambled back to the intersection.

  Kelly raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Something like that.”

  “Oh yeah? You have something else in mind did you?”

  With her left arm, Kelly reached to the base of her spine and flipped open a clasp. She matched Toulson’s sadistic smile as she gripped a dimpled rubber handle and drew a knife from the sheath strapped to her torso.

  Toulson’s eyes bulged a tiny bit as she drew a hooked blade that measured over ten inches long and held it out in front of her. “Something else? Yeah, you could say that.”

  “And just what do you think you’re going to be doing with that there pig sticker? I’d suggest handing it over to me before you go and hurt yourself.”

&n
bsp; Kelly started to respond, but stopped short. Her features crinkled for a moment and she turned her head to the right.

  The sound of voices could be heard echoing down the hallway.

  She turned back to Toulson. “Tell you what. You take care of whoever’s coming down that hallway, and maybe I won’t use this thing on you.”

  Toulson looked past her and listened hard for the voices. When he caught them too, he refocused on Kelly. “And who’s to say I don’t just take that blade from you right now and use it on all of you?”

  Mock indignation spread across Kelly’s face. “And here after I offered to share. I thought you were some kind of bare knuckle boxing star?”

  “You don’t get into my line of work without learning how to handle a blade, love.”

  Toulson took a step closer and held his hand out for the knife.

  Darkness flashed behind Kelly’s eyes, replaced immediately by twisted humor. “Sorry Tommy, you don’t get to make the rules. I do.”

  With that, she threw her head back and let out a scream that seemed to shake the halls.

  The sound of feet running towards them soon followed.

  Fifty-Three

  Jenna slept until midnight, a sharp stab through her ribs pulling her from slumber.

  She awoke with a start, gasping in pain and placing a hand on her side. Several deep breaths attempted to slow her breathing.

  The red glow of the clock showed bright in the darkness and she focused her eyes on the square digits before her.

  Just after midnight.

  “I told you to wake me up when you got home,” she murmured.

  Jenna rolled onto her back and swung her left arm out. Nothing but smooth bedding was on the receiving end of her reach. Her head slowly lifted from the pillow behind her as realization set in.

  “Will?”

  Pushing herself up onto her elbows, Jenna rose to a sitting position and looked around. Confusion crossed her face and she swung her feet to the floor.

  She shuffled around the edge of the bed and grabbed her zip-up hooded sweatshirt from the closet door-knob. Walking through the hallway she pulled her arms through the sleeves.

  “Will? Honey? You home?” she asked.

  Her bare feet were silent on the wooden floor as she walked into the living room and looked around. She took up her cell-phone from the end table and checked it.

  Nothing.

  Jenna checked the time again and stood thinking for a moment. She flipped the phone open again and scrolled through her phone book again. Using her thumbs she typed out another quick text message.

  Hey Heath, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I haven’t heard anything from Will. Are you guys together? Is everything okay?

  Fifty-Four

  “So a forearm shiver is preferable to a good old-fashioned punch, huh?” Will asked.

  Heath rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

  “I’m just asking.”

  Heath cracked a half smile. “Simple anatomy my friend. Like I said before, there are twenty-seven metacarpals in the hand. Most are less than an inch long. There are two bones in the forearm, both over a foot long. Which do you think are stronger?”

  Will held his hand out in front of him and studied it. “Well, Doctor Honeycutt, remember back when we were kids at school and I would break your pencils every chance I got?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Well, as I recall, the longer the pencil was the easier it was to break. Kind of like breaking a board now.”

  “True, but chunks of a pencil have the same diameter. Metacarpals are much smaller in width. Invalid comparison.”

  Will nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Why the hell am I defending this to you anyway? You want to break your hands, you go right ahead.”

  Will stopped walking and glanced back the way they came. “So you agree we’re not done fighting here too, huh?”

  Heath sighed. “Nothing would thrill me more than to find a door out of here and go grab a carnivore at Bellagio’s. I just don’t see it happening.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” Will agreed. “Ah well, how much can you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight?”

  “Fight Club, and we’ve both been in fights before.”

  Will stopped and turned to his brother. “Yeah, I know. This sucks. And I feel bad as hell that I got you into it.”

  Heath started to respond, but was cut short by a blood curdling scream.

  “What the hell was that?” Heath whispered.

  “Definitely a woman’s voice.”

  At once they took off at a sprint in the direction it had come from.

  Fifty-Five

  “You see what I see developing over there?”

  Winston followed Rosner’s gaze to the schematic on the screen in front of him. His eyes swept the entirety of the map and found what he was referring to.

  On the bottom level, a cluster of dots was converging fast.

  Winston glanced to the television banks on the opposite wall and saw Toulson and Kelly standing off from one another. A little further down, the Honeycutt brothers were running straight for them.

  “Looks like she’s earning her keep,” Winston muttered.

  In a flash, he was on his feet and headed for the podium. The low murmur of the room subdued, tracking him as he bolted forward.

  With the press of a single button, cameras from all four corners of the intersection converged to form a single image. In the center of it stood Kelly, Toulson just off to the side.

  Winston watched the screen for a moment, turned and flashed a devious smile to the audience. A few members matched the look. A couple others even passed him a thumbs-up.

  In the back of the room, Julia Klauff leaned in close to her husband. “I wasn’t paying attention. What just happened?”

  Augy’s eyes never left the screen. “Well, my dear, I believe we are about to find out if we just wasted a half a million dollars.”

  Confusion clouded her eyes for a moment.

  Understanding soon followed.

  She slid her hands around Augy’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder. “Go Team Honeycutt.”

  Augy’s red cheeks bunched in a tight smile. “Indeed.”

  Fifty-Six

  Heath was a half step faster than Will. Always had been.

  Will liked to say it was because Heath was an inch taller. Heath liked to believe it was because he was in better shape.

  The scream echoed through the tunnel, reverberating off the earthen walls with surprising clarity as they ran. Wooden supports whizzed by their heads as they followed the winding path through semi-darkness.

  A second scream cut through the stale tunnel air. Both of the brothers increased their pace.

  The path stretched out before them, curving around to their left. Leaning their bodies into the curve they continued along until it leveled out in a straight line before them.

  “There!” Heath exclaimed and pointed ahead.

  A few feet behind, Will grunted his recognition.

  Ahead, huddled alone on the ground in the middle of the intersection was a woman with dark hair. Her back was turned to them and as they approached she cast a forlorn look over her shoulder. Mud was smeared on her cheeks and lank brown hairs feel across her face. Tears streaked down her skin.

  “Help me,” she mouthed as they came closer.

  Together the brothers pounded out the last few steps.

  Heath's half step lead had grown to two full strides. He headed straight for her as she shifted her body towards them. Just before they arrived, a horror struck look crossed her face and she shook her head from side to side.

  It was too late.

  As Heath passed into the intersection, a sinewy arm extended from the opposite path and connected with a hard overhand right just behind his ear. The power of the blow and his own momentum swung his upper body from atop his legs and for a moment he hung suspended in the air.

  The weightlessness of fl
ight ended abruptly as he crashed onto the hard ground and rolled several times. Tiny yellow lights erupted in front of his eyes and he gasped in vain to regain his breath.

  Behind him, Will’s eyes grew large at the unexpected occurrence and he threw his thick right arm up over his head and swung out to the left. He ran hard through the intersection, past the girl on the floor and put his back against a thick corner pillar.

  Gripping the wooden support behind him he swung his head from side to side. “Heath! You alright?”

  On the ground across from him, Heath groaned. “What the hell was that?”

  Will continued to stare about the intersection. “Takes a real man to hide in the dark and sucker punch someone. Come on out and show yourself, pussy!”

  Across from him, a voice shot back. “There’s no need to be calling names. You’re the bloody cunt that brought his brother along for protection.”

  Toulson took a step forward into the light of the intersection. “Damn lucky I mistimed my punch, too. Otherwise he’d be out cold right now. You blokes are pretty fast for your size.”

  The woman stared from one corner to another. Toulson stood nonchalantly while Will trembled with fury, still gripping the pole behind him.

  She rolled forward on to her hands and knees and crawled to Heath, who was just beginning to push himself up from the ground. He gave no resistance at all as she placed a hand on his back and leaned in close to check on him.

  Will leveled his eyes on Toulson and released his grip on the support beam. He rose to full height and unbuttoned his dress shirt. A thin sheen of sweat covered his olive skin as he dropped it to the ground and rolled his shoulders a few times. A black ribbed tank top clung to his body.

  “You and me, eh?” Toulson asked, motioning a hand between them.

  “You and me.”

  Fifty-Seven

  Toulson brought his hands up by his sides, the veins and muscles working like pulleys in his arms. He bounced on his feet, shifting his weight from side to side.